


i like your face

by justadreamfox



Series: AFTG Bingo 2020 [5]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Bingo 2020, Established Relationship, M/M, Model!Neil, Private Jet, Prompt: Fashion & Models AU, andrew is a fashion designer, cw: vague mentions of baltimore and torture, except they've been being dumb, paris is always a good idea, this is fluff with a dash of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26223571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justadreamfox/pseuds/justadreamfox
Summary: Neil is the face of Andrew's couture label, but some shit went down and now we're all just trying to sort it out, okay?
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: AFTG Bingo 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817062
Comments: 20
Kudos: 353
Collections: AFTG Bingo Blackout 2020 - Cupcakes, All For The Game Bingo 2020





	i like your face

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks and love to my beta [makebelieveanything](https://archiveofourown.org/users/makebelieveanything/).
> 
> This is part of AFTG Bingo 2020, and also part of the Fluffy Cupcake Club's bingo blackout collaboration.

Neil gripped the phone and squeezed his eyes shut. “What do you mean I’m still going to Paris tomorrow?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Neil, he wants you at that shoot,” Allison’s voice came through the phone and Neil could hear the softness in it and it made him angry. His agent and best friend - the infamous and terrifying Ms. Allison Reynolds - was a badass bitch and the head of the most elite modeling agency in New York. The softness didn’t sit well in her voice, yet ever since he’d come back from Baltimore that was how she’d been talking to him.  _ Gently. _ She was gentle when she told him he’d lost most of his contracts, when she told him no one had called for him to go on a look-see, when she suggested maybe he should retire - it’s not like he needed the money. She said these things to him softly.  _ Carefully. _ He fucking hated it. 

“Does he not know what happened? Did you tell him?” Neil bit out. 

“Of course he knows, darling.” She didn’t have to say: _ everyone knows.  _

“Maybe he’s been too busy, out of the country - I know he was in Hong Kong last month. Maybe he didn’t get the memo. Either way, I don’t want to do this.”

“He said you are the face of his company and this campaign and you have a contract.”

“Was the face. _ Was _ , Al. My face has changed - he can’t still want me.” Those last words tasted bitter on the way out of Neil’s mouth. He meant more than just the contract, but Allison couldn’t know that. 

“He said if you said something like that - and I quote - ‘tell him to stop being a fucking idiot’ - end quote.”

“Fine,” Neil sighed. 

“Fine?” Allison said.

“Yes, fine, I’ll go to Paris tomorrow. Finish out the contract.”

“Okay darling, I’ll send a car for you at 8am tomorrow.”

“Fine.”   
  
“Neil? This is a good thing, okay?” That soft voice again.  _ Gentle. _

“Fuck you,” Neil said, because he couldn’t stop himself. 

It startled a laugh out of Allison, and some of her old spark shone through when she said, “Fuck you too you little asshole. I love you. Text me when you land.”

Neil fiddled with his phone after hanging up. Allison was his best friend, but she didn’t know that most days before Baltimore he had known exactly where Andrew was, what Andrew knew. That up until Baltimore, Neil talked to or texted with or saw Andrew most days. But since Baltimore - since Neil’s father kidnapped him, tortured him, cut angry lines across Neil’s famous cheekbones - Neil had been avoiding Andrew’s calls, his texts. 

So, he had no idea what Andrew knew about his face, and he could not believe that he still wanted it representing his international fashion brand. 

Neil finally clicked on Andrew’s name, opened up their last text, started typing.

_ andrew _

**Neil.**

_ what the fuck? _

**Hello to you too.**

_ why do you still want me in paris? _

**You are the face of my campaign.**

_ have you seen my face lately? _

**I have not.**

_ it’s fucked now _

**My understanding is you have a few more scars.**

_ a few.. _ .

**You have always had scars.**

_ not on my face _

**Is this going to be a problem for you?**

_ andrew _

**It is not a problem for me.**

_ andrew _

**Neil.**

_ fuck  _

_ fine _

_ i’ll see you at the airport in the morning _

**Good.**

This wasn’t Neil’s first trip on Andrew’s private jet. He’d been modeling for Monster Couture for two years now, and Andrew liked to direct and oversee his fashion shoots personally - he also liked taking them international. The last one had been in Budapest, the time before in Iceland. 

It was always Neil plus one or two other models on these trips: Jean, Jeremy, or occasionally Kevin - although Kevin and Neil had been shot together so many times that they didn’t get called up on the same shoots much anymore. Andrew was careful to partner Neil with models he knew from Allison’s agency, after making the mistake of lining him up in a shoot  _ once _ with Riko Moriyama. 

(Andrew had quietly and efficiently made sure that Riko never worked again after  _ that _ shoot, though Neil didn’t find out about that until much later.) 

Usually Andrew’s business partner Renee and his cousin Nicky were on the plane too - but when Neil arrived at the private hanger that morning and was shown into the cabin, it was empty save for Andrew, sitting in his usual seat, swirling a glass of scotch, looking right at Neil and looking absolutely  _ edible _ . 

Neil sucked in a breath, let it out slowly, forced his shoulders to relax. It was four months since Baltimore and five months since he’d seen Andrew. Neil kept himself from reaching up to touch his scars, kept himself still while Andrew catalogued his face, flicked his eyes to Neil’s arms and hands, also littered with scars that weren’t there the last time they’d seen each other. 

Andrew eventually raised an eyebrow at him. “Sit,” he said, tilting his head to the seat next to him. “We’re taking off soon.” 

“Just the two of us?” Neil couldn’t help from asking. 

“Well, there is the pilot. Co-pilot too. Problem?”

“No.” Neil sat in the roomy leather seat next to Andrew. 

They didn’t speak through take-off which was not unusual. Andrew hated flying, and the take-off was the worst for him. Once they had leveled out in the air Andrew relaxed his grip on the armrest, took another sip of his drink, then got up without a word to head to the back of the plane.

Neil wondered if this was how it was going to be - silence all the way to Paris - and he guessed maybe he deserved it, but then Andrew returned with a bottle of Dalwhinnie and a second glass. 

“Drink,” Andrew said, and Neil shrugged, accepting the glass from him. He sipped it slowly, and it was good. He knew it would be - Neil was used to nursing a glass on these flights while Andrew drank steadily to steel his nerves until they landed. It was one of the first things Neil had learned about Andrew - on their very first shoot, their first flight, before.  _ Before _ .

“Neil,” Andrew was looking at him when Neil lifted his head to meet his gaze. 

“I want to be very clear. I want you on this campaign. I want to renew your contract after this shoot. But if you want out of your contract I will let you out of your contract - I am not going to hold you to it.”

“Okay,” Neil said, surprised. “I was under the impression I had to be on this flight.”

Andrew huffed. “I had to get you to talk to me somehow.”

Neil’s mouth dropped open at that, and he had to scramble to get his words back. “What does that mean?”

“You didn’t call me,” Andrew said. Neil knew he meant _ after Baltimore.  _

“I didn’t.” Neil wasn’t sure what else to say.

“I had to find out from Kevin,” Andrew said. He sounded bored. Neil knew he wasn’t.

“Andrew. I’m sor-”   


“Don’t you dare,” Andrew interrupted him. He didn’t sound at all bored anymore. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“My face,” Neil ground out. “I didn’t know if you...I didn’t want...” Neil blew out a frustrated breath. He didn’t know how to articulate what he had felt - that he didn’t want Andrew’s pity, that he didn’t want him to think that he had to be with him  _ like this. _

Andrew’s eyes searched Neil’s for a long moment and Neil fought not to look away, because Andrew was seeing everything Neil didn’t know how to say and Neil didn’t want him to  _ see _ . It was too much, too intense, and Neil started to turn away, but Andrew captured his chin with strong fingers, his voice low and molten when he asked, “At what point did I ever make you think it was only your face I was interested in?”

“The campaign- ” Neil started.

“Neil, in all seriousness, fuck the campaign, and if you bring it up again I will kill you.”

“Okay,” Neil said, and he closed his eyes, feeling Andrew’s fingers on his chin. It had been five months. Five. “Okay Andrew.”

Neil opened his eyes and Andrew let him go. “I have come to the conclusion that you need things spelled out for you, so I am going to do that now. This,” Andrew pointed between them, “means something. You mean something to me.”

“But you said there is no  _ this _ ,” Neil protested.

“Yes and apparently I am a fucking idiot, because five months without you in my life has made it very clear to me that I never want to be apart again.”

Neil stared at him, stunned. 

“Neil,” Andrew said quietly. “I haven’t seen you for five months, you almost died, and we’ve been on this fucking plane for an hour, so I’m going to kiss you now, okay?"

Neil just nodded, and then gasped when Andrew’s hands came to either side of his face resting against the scars there, and  _ god _ he’d missed those hands and  _ fuck _ no one had touched his face for months. Neil closed his eyes because he was going to cry and he didn’t want to, but he thought he had lost this and it was just now sinking in how truly stupid he had been. Andrew’s lips brushed against his, and Neil sighed into him, felt warmth on his cheeks as Andrew kissed him and kissed him and brushed away his tears.

Andrew pulled back slowly, kissed the scars on Neil’s cheekbones, his nose. “If you get kidnapped and tortured and end up in the hospital again, call me.”

“Okay,” Neil sniffed.

“But just, don’t. With the kidnap and torture thing. Preferably not the hospital either.”

“Okay,” Neil said again, huffing a small laugh.

Andrew’s gaze was steady on him, his hands still on Neil’s neck and face, fingers tucked into his hair.

“Do you want to do this shoot?” Andrew asked him, thumbing at his cheek softly.

“Yes. I really do,” Neil said, and he meant it. He wanted to work - he  _ liked _ his work. He’d thought he’d never get to work again. 

“Good,” Andrew said, and Neil knew he meant it, and there was no pity in his hazel eyes. “Now - most importantly - do you want to stay in Paris with me for the week after and order room service and never leave our hotel?

“Fuck yes,” Neil breathed, and then Andrew was kissing him again and again and again and Neil never wanted him to let go, and oh,  _ oh _ he felt safe for the first time since Baltimore.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on tumblr @ [justadreamfox](https://justadreamfox.tumblr.com/)


End file.
